


Baby's First Dragon Hunt

by hrhsparklefists



Series: So Over This Shem Nonsense [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Fight, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhsparklefists/pseuds/hrhsparklefists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first dragon they kill isn’t the Fereldan Frostback currently lurking in the Hinterlands; that probably would have been the smarter choice for their first time. No, the first dragon they take down is the Northern Hunter in Crestwood.<br/>And who'd've thunk it would lead to realization of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby's First Dragon Hunt

That morning, Oraris woke in a warm, dry straw bed for the first time in… Creators, she can’t even remember how long it had been since she hadn’t slept on a thin but _somehow lumpy_ bedroll!

 

Well, if she was being honest she hadn’t been so much sleeping on the bedroll as she had been on Bull. Being roughly two thirds her size and _at least_ two feet taller than she was made him a damn good bed. But this morning she awoke alone; Bull, she presumed, was already up and getting ready for the damp day ahead.  

 

With a heaving sigh Oraris swung her legs out of bed, thankful that they weren’t met with cold and damp air for the first time in weeks. She grumbled as she pulled on the Shemlen armor that didn’t quite feel natural, cursing her decision to leave her nice armor with the Keeper before she had set off for the Conclave.

 

“At least it isn’t sopping wet and cold anymore.” She sighed to herself.

 

She flung one last longing look at the bed before she stood and dodged through the clothing forest hanging in the room. Since The Inquisition was now operating out of Caer Bronach they had taken the opportunity to dry out all of their dirty clothes in their fire warmed room, hence the clothing forest.

 

 _Honestly,_ she wondered to herself as she pushed a pair of Bull’s trousers out of her path, _I don’t understand how no one has figured out that we’re involved yet. We don’t hide it well, or really_ at all _._

 

Oraris walked out of her room, a groan escaping her as she tripped on a stone.

 

 “Fen-fucking-Harel take whomever invented boots.” The elf cursed under her breath.

 

Breakfast and briefing went by in a blink and before she knew it they were back out in the rain. The plan was to push passed the fort and into the Black Fens. After Old Crestwood was drained and exposed, a multitude of demons slain, and souls laid to rest, the Sun finally decided to come out and hang in the sky. Though somehow, that hadn’t stopped the rain.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra, Dorian, Iron Bull, and Oraris made their way down the steep slope in comfortable silence, occasionally pausing to look around. They approached an old, crumbling structure and The Iron Bull reached out to grab her arm, holding her back for a second. She shot him a quizzical look before following his eye-line and spotting a High Dragon resting in the ruins.

 

“Boss.” His tone was brimming with hope and excitement.

 

Oraris glanced to the side, checking to see if her other two companions were on board. Her smile widened and eyes locked with Bull’s before nodding. “Today is a good day. Today is a _very_ good day!”

 

Someone had later asked her about the decision to fight a dragon at that moment. Oraris sheepishly admitted that the only reason she’d acquiesced to Bull’s request was because her dry clothes had left her feeling overly confident.

 

With whoops of joy, the two of them ran recklessly towards the Northern Hunter, weapons bared and adrenaline rushing. Decidedly less excited about the encounter, Cassandra and Dorian followed behind the couple, groaning and tutting in disbelief.

 

* * *

 

Spells flew, swords slashed, daggers stabbed. Axes – and bees! – flew through the air. Their weapons gouged into the rough dragon hide; it was an exciting, exhilarating adventure, until all of a sudden, it wasn’t. Oraris had already been sliced in the face, blood covered her right cheek and neck, that was something she could easily disregard. But this? No, this couldn’t be ignored.  

 

Oraris could see it happening. She wasn’t sure if Bull knew, wasn’t sure if he’d noticed.  She tried shouting to get his attention but the destructive gusts kicked up by the flapping of the Northern Hunter’s wings was deafening, keeping her screams from reaching her lover.

 

Panic shot through her.

 

_Fuck, it’s on his blind side! Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

She raced towards him as one of the towering stone pillars from the ruin began to topple over, threatening to crush Bull beneath it.

 

 _Creators please!_ The thought looped repeatedly through her mind, a vague prayer for her lover - a man, she realized in that moment, that she did not want to face the world without.

 

And, boy, was _that_ a realization. The shock of it echoed through her as she dropped her shoulder and slammed full force into Bull, sending the two of them tumbling out of the path of the falling pillar.

 

Out of the two of them, Oraris got the rougher landing. She smacked face first into Bull’s chest only to bounce off and land on her side. A winded grunt from Bull was the first thing she’d heard from him since he yelled something in Qunlat shortly into the fight. Creators, that small sound was like honeyed music to her ears.  

 

Bull had a look of startled confusion before realization dawned on his face - understanding what she had just saved him from. After quickly scanning him for any debilitating injury Oraris was up, charging at the beautiful scaled beast again. She fought with a ferocity one only gained after witnessing a threat to the life of someone you love.

 

In the blink of an eye she had vanished, reappearing under the dragon. This wasn’t a fun game to her anymore, she was emphatically _done playing_. With violent fervor she stabbed into the inner thigh of the Northern Hunter’s back leg. Dragging the blade through as many muscles and tendons as possible, Oraris crippled the dragon. The beast fell on her side with an anguished roar, the damage on her back leg was too much to bear her weight. Oraris jumped on the dragon’s side, moving swiftly towards her neck. All the energy she could muster went into plunging her dagger into the soft gap between the skull and spinal cord, twisting and dragging it around the neck before yanking it out and plunging the dagger into one eye. With a final feral roar she twisted the dagger and pushed it as hard as she could. Oraris pressed against her dagger’s hilt until she heard the magnificent creature sigh a final breath. The dragon was dead.

 

Both daggers in hand, raggedly breathing she rested back on her shins. With her head tilted up to the sky she tried to collect herself, finding the incessant rain soothing for once. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the sheer marathon of emotions she’d just run through.

 

A thunderous, jubilant laugh rang out behind her, breaking the silence. A smile cracked her reserved face. Bull. With a sharp breath in she jumped to her feet.

 

“ _We fucking did it_!” She exclaimed, jumping into Bull’s waiting arms.

 

Her hands couldn’t stay still and started to wander over his exposed skin – searching for wounds. She saw the understanding in Bull’s eyes just before she smothered him with kisses.

 

Just as soon as they started, they ended and Oraris was off and around to the other side of the dragon to check on Dorian and Cassandra. Out of the four of them Oraris had managed to end up with the largest amount of injuries, Bull coming second on that list. Creators know how Cassandra and Dorian got out of the scuffle with barely a scratch on either of their beautiful bodies.

 

Now certain that everyone was okay, Oraris spun round and returned to the other side of the dragon. She grabbed The Iron Bull, pulled him down to her level, and quickly attached her lips to his. Oraris flung one arm around his neck whilst the other pulled his face as close as possible to hers, reigniting the passion with which she had been kissing him before. 

 

Bull got the hint pretty quickly - she’d had faith he would, he was a smart man after all. Oraris could feel his hand lightly probing the gash on the right side of her face while the other cradled her body close to his. She had barely felt a thing as the wayward claw had clipped her before sending her flying into the dirt. Now, however, Bull’s searching fingers stung as the sweat on his thumb met the open wound. Oraris ignored the soft nagging pain as long as possible in favor of getting much, much closer to her lover. That is, until he tested the wound by tugging it minutely. Oraris recoiled with a loud hiss and smacked a hand over the wound, which did not help the situation. She yelped as tears rose in her eyes.

 

_Andruil be damned! That fucking **hurts**!_

 

“We should get that looked at, Boss. It’s really deep.” Bull said, soothing a hand down over her back.

 

She glowered. At the yell of pain Cassandra and Dorian had rounded the dragon’s head and were now stood staring at her, concern coloring their faces.

 

“Well it’s not like _I_ know any healing magic, my dear.” Dorian chimed in, “My talents lie largely in killing people and raising the dead. I fear you may need to get that fixed up in a rather barbaric manner. I spied absolutely zero healing mages in camp.”

 

“Yes, the ones that were stationed at the fort left last night,” Cassandra added. “They were running low on herbs and were needed urgently in the village.”

_Of course they did._

 

“I’ll see if I can find supplies to whip up a cream to help with the pain when we get back.” Dorian said before turning to begin the walk back to the fort.

 

Oraris tossed her head back in a whine and pout, immediately regretting it when the pain spiked and her wound opened further. Blood began to ooze down her face, coloring her cheek and jaw a brighter shade of red.

 

“Yeah. Okay. I see your point.” A grumbling admission, for sure. All the elf really wanted to do was hop on top of Bull and ride him until they both couldn’t move. Fear was a powerful aphrodisiac apparently.

 

* * *

 

Back at Caer Bronach, Oraris was under the resident surgeon’s hands. The scar would be a ferocious one, Oraris realized as she tried her hardest not to pull away as each stitch was tugged into place.

 

“Please hold still, Inquisitor.” The surgeon urged her, for what was probably the tenth time.

_Mythal bless the patience of this poor woman,_ Oraris thought to herself, _I fucking_ hate _needles._

 

“Inquisitor,” the surgeon warned in a low voice. She hadn’t even realized she’d been pulling away again. “We have to do this right. You don’t want it to get infected. I could see _bone_ when I was cleaning it out.”

 

 “But it hurtsssssss.” The Inquisitor whined.

 

The surgeon pinned her with a harsh look. “It’s been nearly twenty minutes and we are not even close to being half way.”

 

She whined again, a higher pitch this time. “I’ll behave; just… just get it over with.”

 

Oraris bit into her lip, trying to control her fear and pain. Needles turned her into a big baby and always had. Thirty minutes went by with barely any interruptions and the Surgeon breathed a sigh of relief as she tied off the last stitch. Oraris hopped off the table.

 

“Keep those stitches in place. I don’t want you back in here for popping one. Keep the talking to a minimum, don’t eat anything that requires much effort to chew it, keep the activity to a minimum, don’t… do… uhhh. Don’t. Just… don’t _useyourmouthtoomuch_.” She said in a rush, a blush high on her cheeks.

 

“Oh Creators.” Oraris covered her face with her hands. She gave a brusque thank you to the woman before scurrying out of the room, already wondering if there was a way she could bend those instructions.

 

* * *

 

 

On her way to find Bull, wanting to celebrate their victory as she had intended to earlier, she realized just how hungry she was. Swinging by the kitchen was the right idea for both intended goals it seemed, as she found food and The Iron Bull in the same place.

 

“Just the man I was looking for!” She chirped, regretting letting her face get so animated.

 

“How’s the face, Boss?” He asked, gently tilting her head to the sidse.

 

“Better than yours.” She teased, focusing on talking out of the left side of her mouth.

 

“Harsh!”

 

“Come on.” Oraris reached out and grabbed his hand, “Grab some food and let’s go to our room.”

 

A playful smirk, an offer really. Bull grabbed a platter food from one of the counters; clearly someone had the foresight to think the Inquisitor would want to dine in her room this evening.

 

* * *

 

Food eaten, teasing barbs traded, laughs shared, battle reminisced, and coy smiles thrown at each other, Oraris stood from her seat and led The Iron Bull towards the bed, their hands entwined.

 

“Nice try, Boss. Those stitches spell no _vigorous_ activity.” Bull’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

 

“The surgeon just said to keep the talking to a minimum and not to use my mouth too much.” She began unstrapping the top of her armor slowly, looking up at Bull through her eyelashes.

 

“You are such a little shit.” Bull breathed out.

 

“I’m sure you can come up with a solution.” Her leather jacket and cotton shirt hit the floor.

 

“Fuuck.”

 

“That’s the point.”

 

A growl is his only response. Trousers pool at her ankles.

 

“Come on, I’m sure you can think of some rules for me to obey.” Reclining on the bed in nothing but her smalls she could see Bull wrestling with the decision. “Bull. We killed _a high dragon_ that _demands_ a celebration.”

 

He huffed, clearly waffling on the issue before acquiescing.

 

“No talking. You are not allowed to open your mouth but you can make noise. Most importantly - keep your face from moving. Hands above your head. I don’t have anything to tie you with so your self-control better be good today.”

 

The elf wiggled excitedly in her lounging pose before reaching her hands up and grabbing the cross beam at the head of the bed. Bull smirked and slid his hands up her legs, his large hands finding their place over her hips. He dipped his thumb down to brush over her clit, rubbing her through her smalls. A muscle in Oraris’ right leg twitched and she let out a moan, mouth parting slightly.

 

Bull’s hands continued their journey up her body, reaching her breast band and cupping each breast in a large, warm palm. Bull gave both her breasts a good squeeze before dipping to the side and undoing the clasp that kept the band in place. He ducked his head down to her left breast and gave the nipple a good lick before pulling it into his mouth and nibbling on it gently. Above his head, Oraris let out a hiccupping moan. With a glance Bull looked up, checking to see if she was following his rules. She wasn’t. Or at least, not fully. The Inquisitor’s brows were drawn up and her mouth was parted. The sutured wound on her face was practically glowing red.

 

“Boss.” A warning tone. “Look at me.”

 

Oraris raised her head and made eye contact.

 

“I’m serious about these rules. Your well-being is what is at stake here this time, not a playful punishment. If you can’t follow my directions, we are stopping. _I_ will be the one to use the watchword.”

 

Oraris whined in protest.

 

“The gash is inflamed and red already.”

 

She huffed.

 

“ _Hey_.” Bull had never used a tone that sharp towards her before and it caused Oraris to sit up abruptly. “I already have some pretty serious reservations about this, Boss. If you won’t or can’t follow the ground rules I’m stopping this. You know normally I’d be unfazed by the injuries, we’ve had sex with a multitude of them, but this one? It’s the worst you’ve gotten, Ora.”

 

“Bull…” The weight behind his words hit her - his voice was heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. Reaching out to him she cupped his face. “We can stop if you’re not a hundred percent on board. I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

 

The Iron Bull smiled and gave her palm a gentle kiss.

 

“Thank you.” He whispered, seemingly happy that she cared about his comfort level too.

 

The Inquisitor got up to find the paste Dorian made for her, to ease the swelling and to fight infection. She spread it on, massaging it into the wound whilst watching Bull strip down for sleep. The cold tingle of the paste made her moan as it cooled the injury. Bull’s cock twitched at the sound. She laughed as much as the pain would allow.

 

“Really?” She laughed again.

 

“Hey - I can’t help that you’ve trained my dick to react when you make noises like that.”

 

“I’m not sure it obeys as well as a mabari though.” Bull threw a balled up sock at her.

 

It was impossible to ignore the atmospheric shift since they had stopped. Oraris wasn’t sure what it meant, if she was reading something that wasn’t there, or if something had actually changed between them. The smile on her face hadn’t faded though. Bull’s leg was tantalizing her, mocking her inability to worship those thick thighs.

 

Fiddling with the band of her smalls she walked over to the bed. The emotions from the earlier fight had come flooding back to her, the fiddling a nervous motion. Bull’s explanation about Qunari sex – it wasn’t for love, sex and friendship didn’t mix, it made everything messy – echoed painfully through her mind. Oraris was worried about how to hide the fact that she had managed to go and do the one thing Quanri do not do: fall in love. She was incredibly sure the deep affection – okay, downright _love_ – she felt for the man was unrequited.

 

_Hopefully, he’ll just think my melancholy is from the injury and not something else._

With a small sigh she straddled Bull’s thighs and gave him a chaste kiss.

 

“I can’t wait for Dorian to figure out healing magic…or for a healing mage to get back.” She grumbled and buried her face in Bull’s neck, mindful of her wound.

 

“I just really want,” Neck kiss. “To celebrate,” A kiss on his jaw. “Our Glorious Victory.” She placed a final kiss on his temple.

 

“Mmm, we will.” Bull turned his head to capture her mouth in a soft kiss. “Enthusiastically too, I promise.”

 

Together they settled down for the night, snuggling deeply into the bed. Oraris curled into Bull’s side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She fell asleep almost immediately, unknowingly leaving Bull awake, an ache in his chest, ‘Kadan’ unspoken on his lips, wondering when the hell his feelings for her had become so strong.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my ever lovely bestie @regalpotato (find her on both tumblr and ao3)


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